Procrastination
by marshtomp madness
Summary: Toris can't get Feliks to shut up and work on their project. Background Arthur/Al, not really Toris/Feliks.


I _tried _to flesh this out into a bigger story. It just... Argh, I don't even know. It's bigger now than it was, but that's not saying much. I just realized-- I made Feliks way too nice in my other story! D: Agh.

Oh, and for Feliks in English I have to look up commonly used phrases_ in my native tongue._ (It is the language my mother spoke to me growing up. So it's my native tongue.) Since I try so hard to keep it out of my writing, I had to keep thinking through the way Feliks spoke in my head, really carefully, to see if it felt natural. AGH FRUSTRATING

Also, question: What is up with the "CANADA, WHY SO MOE?" thing I keep hearing about?

* * *

"So I was all like, you're a loser, and punched him! Just like that! Bam!"

Feliks demonstrated the force of this by punching the table in the library they were sitting in. Toris nodded politely, conscious of the strange stares that they were recieving from the other patrons (except, of course, Al and Arthur in the other corner, who were arguing so loudly that they were recieving strange stares of their own). They had been here for three hours, and Feliks had talked the whole time about everything under the sun except, of course, their homework.

Berwald and Tino, who had arrived at the same time, were packing up already.

"I think we should start our project," he said, trying to whisper. Feliks frowned and continued speaking at his normal louder-than-your-average-person volume.

"But that's _soooo _boring. We have a little time left. Seriously, who even cares about, uh, that guy from the novel we're supposed to read? What's-his-face...? I am like, so thirsty. Where is the drinking fountain again? Be right back."

Toris sighed and put his head down on the table, cherishing the five minutes of silence. He tried to scribble out a few opening lines for their essay, but he didn't really like any of them.

_The theme of wealth in_

_Materialism is the_

_Tom and Daisy Buchanan represent materialism in_

"Back! Dude, have you tried that water? It's like, the perfect temperature of cold but not too cold it hurts your teeth and I think I just drank a ton of it and oh, hey, it sloshes in my stomach when I move-- See, listen--"

Feliks bounced up and down for a moment. Toris didn't hear any sloshing, but that wasn't important.

"Did you even read the novel?"

"I, uh, looked at a page. The first one. Y'know, where it says... the-- the dedication."

Toris sighed. "Berwald and Tino are already done with the whole report."

"Yeah, well, Arthur and Al are too busy fighting to even _start _the book, and that's the both of them-- oh, hey, we should totally watch them, they're going to fight and it'll be awesome. I predict serious damage to Arthur's face." Feliks paused, apparently in gleeful contemplation of this prospect. "Hey, you read, right? So you can tell me what to type, and I'll type it, and that's an even amount of work, isn't it? 'Cause I'm a faster typist than you, and you're a lot nerdier than me, and--"

"That is not an even amount of work! And you can't spell."

"Well, I, uh. You can tell me how to spell the big words, 'cause you'll use them, and... I'll just... write the closing paragraph, 'cause if I read what you tell me to write it should be easy, right? And you can like, give me a play-by-play of what happens, 'cause that's a _long _book. I mean, I even tried looking it up on Wikipedia, and like, what the heck? Wikipedia has a whole freaking _novel _about it, too."

"Yeah, well, you _can _read it. Just read a half a chapter a day, and with the amount of time we were given for this, you should be just fine... Oh, wait, that time is up! Tomorrow! Yes, that was sarcasm. I _cannot _believe you."

"Oh, hey, look, Arthur's poking Al in the chest now. Whoa, they're seriously close, like, in each other's faces... Actually, I change my mind-- no fighting, they're going to start making out, any second now... Oh. _Dude_." Feliks punched the air. "Called it! Oh, whoa, is that, like... _legal _to do in pub--"

"Are you even paying attention to me? Leave them alone, that's _private_, Feliks, you sound like a freak-- ___A__nd shut up! Don't watch!"_

Feliks was craning his neck in weirdly awkward-looking ways to see, and Toris pushed Feliks's head down onto the table, because the librarian was now looking at them. They scowled at each other for a minute, but then Feliks glanced back again.

"No, they're about to get thrown out, watch, the librarian is like, _livid_--"

Arthur was sulking, and Al looked furious, his cheeks having turned bright red. Toris hardly understood why they worked with each other if they just fought all the time.

But then again, he really shouldn't be talking...

"Feliks, you're going to get _us _thrown out! Shut up!" Toris hissed, still trying to whisper loudly and failing miserably. "Fine! I'll tell you what to write, just so long as you _shut up and write it_!"

Feliks sat up straighter and turned to face Toris, his big green eyes wide with happiness.

"You'd do that? Really? Seriously, Toris, you are like, the best friend ever in the history of the world. You are a total god among men. I'll like, get on the computer. Right now. You are amazing. You are brilliant. You are--"

"Shut up, Feliks."


End file.
